The 59th Annual Hunger Games
by Madison and Emily
Summary: The untold story of the 59th Annual Hunger Games.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: HOME

Imogen, district 9

Reaping

"Imogen Brown!"

Me... That's me!

I feel every other teenager clustered around me release an accumulated sigh of relief, I only feel as if I'd been whipped in the chest. The shock of the sound of my own name being called beats every last breath from my lungs. For several few moments I don't feel anything, as if it wasn't really my name that was called. It couldn't have been me. I've just imagined this from my fear, I'm sure they haven't even read out the names yet. I can't fight in the Hunger Games...

But they did read out my name, no amount of pointless imagining will change that. It's not uncommon for tributes to go into mind-numbing shock this early in the games, before they'd even started. Two years ago the girl who was in this position fainted at the sound of her name being reaped. Some just break down crying, but most appear to fall under a despicable, paralyzing spell. One which completely disables their ability to even make the slightest bit of sense of what had happened. A spell that used to perplex me year after year. I didn't understand it at all. I only needed to be in that desperate position myself for it all to make perfect sense. I know now what it's like to feel strangely disconnected from one's own body, to struggle to even perform the simplest of tasks like arranging your own thoughts, keeping oneself standing up, breathing consistently.

"Any volunteers?" The inappropriately elaborately dressed district 9 escort, Ophelia Blithlie calls out to the crowd. As much as I prayed, nobody raised their hand. I pan the crowd until I lock eyes with my younger sister, Lydia. Although she evidently tried to hide them, there's no mistaking the tears dripping off her nose onto the paved ground below her. She tries to avoid my eyes, as she is pretty much my only escape out of this, and she let me down. I'd like to believe that what she's done, or rather what she didn't do, is unforgivable. I'd like to, but I know I wouldn't be inclined to volunteer for her either.

I'm tribute...

Apparently I'm also incapable of walking myself too, seeing as a Peacekeeper had to briskly tap me on the shoulder then guide, almost push me out of the horde of people and towards the stage. I suppose in my mind I've already gone up on the stage and skipped ahead to the games because I've already began to picture the numerous ways I could die next week in the arena.

My limbs become somewhat less rigid and unyielding as manage to compose myself and walk up the steps of the temporary stage set up in front of the justice building. All lamenting, yet reassured eyes are on me. They're all happy it's not themselves up here. I'm not resentful though. I've watched every terrified, now-dead district 9 girl walk across that stage with the same relief-stricken expression every year, thanking the universe that I have somehow survived yet another reaping, despite the six terrasses I've taken every year since I was twelve. But now I'm the helpless girl who will be dead within a few weeks. Probably less. District 9 does not have the best success rate in Panem regarding victors that emerge from the Hunger Games every year. I suppose it could be worse, we could be like district 11 or 12, unable to end up with five victors between them. Attempting to appear as dauntless as possible, I take my place on the stage beside the district 9 escort, Ophelia Blithlie. The longer I am standing there, the more I doubt I'm convincing anyone of my valiant disposition. The distant sounds of Ophelia's inappropriately animated words and the inconsolable applause are muffled. My ears prick only when it's dead silent. The boy is now to be reaped. The boy who will become my opponent. The boy who may end up being the instigator of my death.

"Jack Vandenbosch!"

My eyes are drawn to a group of sixteen year old boys, parting like the red sea as a short, yet strong looking boy approaches the stage.

Strong enough to kill me...?

Do I know this boy? I'm sure I've seen him before. When one lives in a district this small they're bound to at least recognize most people. And I do. Jack. He's in the year level above me at school. He achieved honours last year for Capitol history and mathematics. He had to take eleven terrasses this year... No! I don't know him. I can't know him. It'll only make it more difficult to go into the games with him, if it weren't so painfully difficult already. I don't know him. But I do...

I catch an unmistakable glint of fear in his piercing blue eyes, although to anyone else, it would appear he has successfully put on a brave face, but I can see the blood has drained from it already. As Ophelia Blithlie continues to brutally protract the ceremony to it's full extent, I just watch him. A few times he looks out to the sea of people, evidently searching for the reactions of his family and friends. All I see are blank, hollow faces, void of emotion. For both of us.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Ophelia bellows, her voice thick with the ridiculous Capitol accent, "This year's tributes of district 9, Imogen Brown and Jack Vandenbosch!" As to be expected, remorseful applause follows along with the accustomed "friendly" handshake between the two tributes, even though within a week it will be unlikely we won't be at each other's throats. The escort bids the audience farewell and hurriedly ushers us into the wide wooden doors of the justice building. She suddenly halts as if she's forgotten something of great importance and shuffles back to the microphone, her abundantly curled, snow-coloured wig nearly falling off her head. She giggles and flicks a loose hair peeking from under the hairpiece to the side of her face before continuing. "And may the odds be ever in your favour!".


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter two: THE CAPITOL

Natasha, district 12

Capitol

I step into the train, expecting it to look dull just like the Justice Building, but this is something much more. The velvet-lined walls complement the gold trimmings around the room. A light fabric is draped across the windows, allowing us to see out, but the viewers cannot see in. Next to the door sits a table of food, placed on tiers which tower over Calum and I. Our mouths drop when we see foods we never even knew existed. Puffy pastry filled with cream and dipped in chocolate, colourful shells filled with something that I don't even know of and tiny sandwiches stacked upon each other. A man dressed in red holds a tray, and offers Calum and me a glass of a colourful liquid. Calum politely refuses, but I take it without any contemplating.

"Let's sit down." Says our flamboyant escort, Dorothea Aljoy.

Calum gestures for me to step in front of him, edging me closer to the window seat. We sit down facing one another, and suddenly the train begins to move. You could barely feel it, but the people outside the window were slowly shrinking into the distance.

"Could we get some light?" Dorothea asks the man dressed in red. Then the fabric pulls from the curtains in an instant. The blinding light streams through and hits Calum's face. Once my eyes adjust, the view of Panem is clear. We are traveling through a forest, not far away from District 12.

"So, let's discuss the plans. I mean it's lovely for you to be here, and for you to experience the Capitol, but we need to get Haymitch out here. I'll go find him, he's probably lying on the floor." Dorothea mumbles while she trots to the door. Once it closes, I turn to Calum. He has a blank look on his face not at all like how he is at school.

"So. How are you?" I ask him. He gives me a look. I guess he isn't interested in chatting at the moment. But by surprise, he opens his mouth.

"Fine, and you?"

I gaze into his eyes for a second before replying with "I'm fine."

The carriage door slides open, and in comes Dorothea, dodging Haymitch's clumsy steps. She takes a seat opposite me, and crosses her legs, basically moving as close as she can away from him. He manages to finally reach the drinks table and picks up a bottle of brown liquor. Dorothea cringes when he nearly trips over, preparing herself to be splattered with the drink. When Haymitch sits down, you are instantly hit with the stench of an alcoholic. I notice Calum doesn't hesitate when Haymitch offers him a drink, but while saying that, neither do I. Dorothea glares at him for a second before raising her voice.

"Now, Natasha, Calum, This is your mentor, Haymitch Abernanthy. He and I will be working together with you to help you get those sponsors!"

None of us are pleased to be here, except for Dorothea, but we nod our heads and appear intrigued.

"Oh… That's why I am here." Haymitch Mumbles in a tone that seems to send Calum on edge.

"If you don't want to be here, go. We don't need you. I think we'd be better off without the help of a drunken 25 year old." Calum snaps at Haymitch. I could see that Dorothea was stunned at the relationship they were forming. He raises his head, and his piercing, grey seam eyes stare down Calum and he takes a gulp from the bottle.

"Like you'd know how to survive in the games. Doubt you've never used a knife to chop up the vegetables for dinner!" Haymitch raises his voice.

He goes to open his mouth again, but Calum stands up from the chair and walks over to the tray of bread. There sits a long, serrated knife, sharp and polished, waiting to be used. Calum picks it up and turns to Haymitch.

"What are you doing?" Haymitch asks.

But Calum doesn't reply. Instead he turns to face the back wall of the train. He raises his arm, and throws the knife. It hits the centre of a painting of President Snow. I turn to Dorothea, who's frantically thinking of what to do. She stands up and trots down the carriage to fetch the knife. She shakes it at first to make it loose, but the knife is wedged in so far that I'm sure it's stuck. She turns to Calum, and politely yet sternly speaks.

"I think it's time to take a break. Lunch will be served shortly, go clean up and get into something," She looks him up and down. "More appropriate." And she turns to the door, going off to yell at someone else. Calum glances to Haymitch and I before making a fuss of his exit. The door slams shut, and Haymitch jumps out of his seat. "I guess we'd better get ready too. See you at lunch, kid." And he too stumbles to the exit.

I stand up, and straighten my dress. I tiptoe my way to the exit, and enter a hall. There are plenty of doors and I cannot see which is my one. But I stop outside a door labelled 'District 12, Girl.' The door is too lined with velvet. I slide it open to reveal a room complete with a bed, wardrobe and my own bathroom. The wardrobe is open with an array of coloured clothing, all my size. I flick through before picking out a deep purple dress. It's short and slightly low cut, but it's amazing. The sleeves are made of chiffon and reach my wrists; the main body is made of soft, shiny leather, and underneath is a layer of tulle. I pick out a pair of matching shoes and lay them on the bed. I walk into the bathroom and take a shower. The settings are weird and there are buttons for everything. I end up being covered in a fine layer of glitter and I smell of flowers. I get into my dress and heels, and put on my silver necklace, which I took from district 12. I spray a perfume over me and put my hair into a ponytail. The make up selection is amazing, so I choose a dark, purple eye shadow and a deep lipstick. Yes, I think I look very capitol and fashionable.

I open my carriage door to see Calum wandering out dressed in a shirt and black pants. He looks at me up and down, and then heads to the dining carriage. I follow behind him and trot at a casual pace.

The dining carriage is now presented with a selection of new food, and Dorothea and Haymitch are already seated. Haymitch looks at me, and a cheeky smirk is present on his face. I think he likes how I look. I take a seat next to Dorothea, and the man dressed in red takes a napkin and lays it on my lap. He too stops and stares at me for a second. I touch my lips to find toothpaste in the corner of my mouth. Oh how embarrassing. But I wipe it away quickly and pretend I didn't notice.

"So Natasha, do you know Calum?" Haymitch asks. Of course I do, we are both in the same school. And I used to have a crush on him. I took it too far, but I am not bringing that up.

"Yes. I've known him for a while."

"And what part of 12 are you from?"

Calum jumps in and replies. "I'm from town and Natasha is from the Seam, and Natasha lives in the outer edge of the Town."

Thankyou, Calum, for putting yourself above me.

A few people dressed in red come in with trays of food, and dish us a plate of lamb stew and rice. Good thing I like lamb.

"Thanks." Calum says to one man dressed in red. The man nods.

"Calum, we do not speak to them. Only when you want something." Dorothea says. "They're avoxes. Criminals."

Calum nods, but then looks down to his plate. We start eating, and as we finish one plate, another is presented to us. By the end I'm sure I would have put on weight. I dab my mouth with the serviette, and we stand up at once. Dorothea leads us to a carriage that has a couch and a projector. Today we are watching videos of The Hunger Games.

Calum sits down in the middle of a couch and I slip in next to him. Dorothea claps her hands, and the projector turns on. We start off with the previous years Games. Dorothea goes on about how excellent district 12 was and how she trained them to be perfect, while Haymitch sits there mumbling something about the idiocy that they both portrayed.

After we watch a few hours worth of video, Dorothea claps once more and the projector turns off. Dorothea turns to Haymitch and says "Any words of advice?" He shrugs and replies sarcastically. "Stay alive". Dorothea just looks concerned.

"Well dinner will be served shortly, clean up." And she wanders out of the room.

The rest of us begin to walk out, Haymitch in the lead. He stops though when we reach our rooms. "Do you want to have some fun?"

I look at Calum and he shrugs. "Of course."

Haymitch leads us to his cabin, where surprisingly, not a bottle of liquor is present. But then he opens his wardrobe. Liquor is basically falling out of the wardrobe while it is neatly stacked. Haymitch picks up a bottle and points at the wardrobe. "Take whatever."

Calum picks out his instantly, while I take a moment to decide. I eventually pick a blue bottle and walk over to where the others are sitting on the bed. Haymitch drinks the bottle in minutes, Calum in 10, and I take a while to drink it. We talk about the Games and District 12, and by the end we are almost lying down. Dorothea comes knocking frantically at 6 o'clock, and we head to dinner. I don't remember much, except Haymitch lying on the floor.

I wake up in the morning still in my dress and heels. I head to the mirror, noticing my deep make up is smeared across my eyes. I wipe it away and walk into the bathroom. I take a shower, and once again being covered in a thin layer of sparkles. Ugh. This time I pick out a shirt and pants to cover up. I put on my make up even heavier, and grab my necklace. I open the door and head to breakfast, where Dorothea is already seated with Calum. She has a concerned look on her face and avoids looking at me. I decide that ignoring the women's scowl face would be best, and I walk over to a cart, which is piled with food of all sorts. I pick out a large, cream coloured plate and purposely pile it with pancakes, bacon and of course some lovely pastries. I walk over to the dining table and sit next to Calum. Dorothea looks at me in disappointment as I pick up a piece of sizzling bacon with my hands and shove a piece into my mouth.

Just as I finish my plate, as dishevelled Haymitch walks in, with a bottle of brown liquid in hand. He slouches as he staggers to the only seat left and drops the bottle on the table. I see him smirk at Calum.

"Well, it's introduction day. We should be in the Capitol by one o'clock." Haymitch announces.

"Yes. And we will be sure of ourselves to look both appropriate and orderly." Dorothea blurts out while staring us down. "Calum, Haymitch will dress you, with the help of an Avox. And Natasha, I will be helping you get ready. Understand?…" She looks at the three of us. We tilt our heads and nod. "Excellent. Now, now we must get ready."

I follow after Dorothea in a slightly slower pace. When we arrive at my door, she slides it open to reveal my room, which seems surprisingly cleaner than before. I sit down on the edge of my bed and face the wardrobe. Dorothea opens it to reveal my selection of appropriate attire.

"How about something dazzling, or maybe even slightly toned down" She thinks aloud. "Ah-ha, oh wait no. How about, no. Oh what about this."

She pulls out a long, black coat with a hood, which is draped slightly down the back. It's pretty, of course, but it reminds me of home. This brings tears to my eyes. Maybe it's because I'm so tired from last night that I haven't even remembered what I am actually doing. I am going to the Capitol. I am one of their toys. I am not here for fun. I am here, because they want me.

"Oh honey, if you don't want to wear it, just say." I smile at her.

"Of course I want to wear it, it's magnificent. It's just, I'm kind of sad." I say.

She smiles at me. I know that she must hate seeing us leave for the Capitol every year and never return, but she must also think of it as rather fun.

"I think, we should get you a lovely outfit to impress the Capitol and forget about the whole thing." And with that she pulls out a lovely orange blouse and a black skirt dotted with detail. I smile at her. I think it is lovely.

Before the train comes to a silent halt, I am draped by the tasteful orange blouse and decorated skirt. I decided to go with the black coat Dorothea chose. It makes me look fiercer than the girl trembling inside me.

"Ahh. Perfect. Now come, come. I think we're here." Dorothea speaks up, but her usual perky expression has narrowed into a look of despair. Is she actually worried for me?

I step into the dining carriage, where Haymitch and an admittedly handsome Calum, are already seated. Calum is now wearing a matching shirt with a pair of light beige slacks. Yet Haymitch is still dressed in his hideous attire of a white, ripped shirt and a pair of baggy, black slacks. Dorothea gives them a look of disappointment before turning into her true self, a capitol member.

Her voice blurts out and sends my ears ringing.

"We're here! Come over to the window. They're going to love you."

We follow her gaze to what appears to be the Capitol train station. A sea of rainbow hats, hair and of course clothing, engulf the floor of the train station. And when they see us, about 20 hats fly into the air. Calum smiles and begins to wave. Maybe that's not a bad idea. Ring in the Capitol, before the parade, before the interviews, before the games. I lift up my hand and wave it frantically. People are reaching out to the train window, and I notice myself smiling. I blow kisses out to many of people and to others I just smile. Sometimes, I even winked at a few of the more attractive men. Calum gives me a look of disapproval, but I wink at him jokingly, and he too winks back. It sends us off into laughter, and I even see Haymitch laughing.

When the train comes to a halt, we wait at the train door, and when it opens, the feeling is indescribable. People reach in and pull us out, but it makes us laugh. Some of them carry us to a car just outside the station. I turn around to see Dorothea reaching for us, but never being able to as a few Capitol members stop her. They love us.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter three: THE CAPITOL

Emily, district 1

_Parade_

Although the Capitol has only had a brief look at us since we arrived, I know they're already talking. James and Emily, the two youngest tributes in the history of district 1. I sincerely hope that this supposedly classified information, until its apparently big reveal to the Capitol at our interviews, has already registered with the rest of the tributes, or at least with their mentors. It honestly cannot be difficult to apprehend that we are much younger than the expected eighteen years, it would be a wonder if they did not at least suspect our ages yet. Despite our detrimental reputations, one would not describe us being dangerous looking at all. I'm demure and baby-faced and James has deludingly innocuous, navy puppy-dog eyes, but little would one suspect he and I are capable of becoming unmerciful killers once in the arena. It's how we've been raised to behave. When we step off the train we're immediately ushered into a minimalistic silver building in which we are to be prepared for the Tributes Parade, usually the most humiliating part of the games, even for the weaker tributes who will no doubtably shame themselves in the arena. Being the first district to arrive, there's a considerable amount of waiting we must endure before it's an acceptable amount of time until the parade tonight. As there's no sense in waiting in the cramped rooms that we're going to be prepared in, we wait on a plush velvet sofa in the large foyer of the building. We sit awkwardly in silence. I watch as James continuously clenches, then relaxes his muscles in his hands as we await the arrival of the other districts. Until now it has not occurred to me that I'm not really in a team with James, as much as the Capitol will promote it, but I might be required to kill him at some point during the Games. I actually like him, so I'll make it as quick and painless as I can. The silence, and my darkening thoughts, are thankfully interrupted by unmistakable cheering of the Capitol citizens. Another pair of tributes have arrived. I turn to James and we lock eyes.

"So what are your thoughts on alliances?" He asks, jumping and shaking out his limbs.

"Definitely two" I reply, "in previous years they've always proved to be most useful".

His eyes narrow in contemplation. "In such a small group, we'll be surely turned on." He turns to face the doors. "What about four?"

"Sounds like a plan."

The fragments of our dying conversation come to an abrupt halt when two teenagers, both with flaming red hair and a tall man with contrasting blue skin and silver curls burst through the still swinging double doors, providing the only sound in the room.

"I'll need to find out when the preparations are beginning," the man says in a squeaky Capitol voice. I noticed that he puts extra emphasis on his S's, making him sound like a snake. "Are you fine to stay he…?"

"We'll be fine" the girl interrupts, directing her icy blue eyes at us. The man nods knowingly and proceeds to noisily trot down the hallway to the elevator in his high-heeled gold boots, leaving us alone. If it were possible, I could reach out and touch the tension in the room, it was so obvious. James is the first to speak.

"District two?" He's much taller than the two of them, so he is evidently feeling satisfied at his ability to talk down to them.

"I'm Ben, and this is Charlotte" The boy says in a clear, simple voice. The girl however, says nothing, just attempting to eye me off. I'm the smallest in this group, but that no means defines me as the weakest. Although I lack skill in hand-to-hand combat, I'm fantastic at long distance, which suits me just fine. They can't get close enough to fight me before I've taken them out with my bow and arrow.

"Emily" I introduce myself emotionlessly. No sweet smiles, as our mentor and I have already decided I should be saving them for the Capitol during my interview. As James engages in useless small talk with the two, I survey them, figure them out. The dangerous glints in their eyes and pursed, snarly lips make it exceedingly obvious that they think they can win this, that they don't yet consider James and I as valid competition. My eyes briefly meet with Charlotte's and I can tell that she's trying to figure us out too. She won't. James and I are too well-trained for the games to give ourselves away this early.

"You two seem expectant" I finally speak, "what is it that you want?" My eyes flit over to James, who appears pleased with my abruptness. As for the district two tributes, they seem less approving, in fact quite taken aback and anxious, although they feebly try to hide it.

"Well," Ben clears his throat, "Charlotte and I don't see much sense in the strongest tributes scattering all over the arena, so we thought that maybe we could…." Honestly, I've never even heard of a pair of Careers so fretful.

"Unless you don't want us to…." Charlotte tries to continue, but is interrupted by James.

"Yes, you can be in our alliance" he says confidently, but never once smiling or softening his eyes. Don't want to lead them on too much.

A few hours later we're each taken to individual rooms where we'll meet our prep teams. I have barely a minute alone before I'm being cooed and gushed over by three excited, perky Capitol people. I try to resent them for their irrational delight in this years Games, constantly expressing their adoration for this years district one tributes, but I'm finding it difficult not to be excited myself. I sit for hours as my prep team paint my face with make-up, and even though they frequently assured me that they were professionals and that their, what felt like random strokes of black dust on my face, were in fact strategically drawn lines to make me apparently look as desirable as possible, I was still somewhat apprehensive. It feels so heavy I'm convinced that I'll end up looking like a clown for the parade, as most of the other tributes will anyway. The styling of my hair feels more relaxed though. I feel them running a warm laser across my long, dark hair, which I don't fear, but embrace as know the hot device is making my hair perfectly straight, ridding it of its natural waves. The prep team referred to it as being "dramatic" looking. After what seems like an endless amount of time filled with perfecting my hair and make-up, I was finally shown to my stylist, Xamelita, a petite woman with glittery white skin, a blood-red bob haircut and a frilly blue collar permanently attached to her neck. She doesn't say much, but I've been informed that James will be wearing the same outfit as I will. She guides me to a small room surrounded by mirrors and a long black bag hanging in the middle on a thin metal frame. I unzip it and the blinding light bouncing off the diamonds attacks my eyes, I have to zip the bag up again to let my sight adjust before venturing to put the outfit on. I squint as I skeptically lift it from the bag and hold it before me. It's a full body jump-suit made of a soft mesh, utterly covered with diamonds, which I recognize to be of the highest quality.

"District one is known for its luxury items," Xamelita crosses the room towards me. "So I thought I'd make you something a little special" she says with a smile almost as blinding as the diamonds. She assists me in zipping the suit up at the back, then stands back to survey her "masterpiece", as the prep team had called it as they were giving me hints earlier as to what my costume might be, trying to calm my nerves. Xamelita nods once then gestures to the mirrors surrounding me. I turn to them and I gasp at the sheer brilliance of Xamelita's work. For a few moments all I can do is stare at it.

"It looks beautiful" I almost whisper.

"No, you look beautiful" Xamelita holds my shoulders in a comforting embrace. The rest of the prep team, James, our mentors and escort, Pomeline enter the room. As expected, James is dressed exactly the same as I am, but unexpectedly he does not look feminine like me, somehow the sparkly jump-suit looks masculine on him.

"You two look incredible!" Toulire from the prep-team exclaims as she claps her green-tinted hands together.

"The other tributes don't know what they're up against!" Pomeline squeals with delight. Of course they won't. The Tributes Parade is known for the notoriously tasteless costumes the tributes are forced to wear as they're shown off to the Capitol, the first look they officially get of us. No doubt they'll be genuinely impressed this year with district one.

The second our pearly white carriage rolled out from behind the tall, heavy doors, a sense of the exciting atmosphere of the Capitol instantly engulfs me. Despite my initial hostility towards the Capitol, and the sheer prospect of attempting to please them, there was no escaping the fact that I had to make them love me. I felt them all staring at James and I as we were taken around the city square, judging whether or not we were worth sponsoring. Of course we were, we're from district one. Several pale, ridiculously dressed girls towards the entrance gasp at our costumes in amazement. Approval. It wasn't long before the rest of the Capitol seemed to follow in their admiration. Somehow ignoring the blinding flashes of cameras, and shrill yells and screams assaulting my senses, I found myself able to maintain a straight, emotionless face of stone. I focus my eyes into a seemingly unbreakable stare, looking straight ahead, yet at nothing in particular. The cheering has not ceased, since we arrived. For a second I let my eyes flitter up the long television screens cascading down from the outside of President Snow's enormous mansion.. Even though at least six other districts have made their entrance, James and I remain featured on the screens. We've done it. They love us. I discreetly look at it again, attempting to get a glimpse of us again, trying to obtain a basic understanding as to why we're the centre of the Capitol's attention. James and I look undeniably perfect. The diamonds on our jumpsuits reflect the harsh light of the city onto our faces, flawlessly bouncing off the sharp lines the prep-team brushed onto my face, transforming my once soft, rounded features into a lethal-looking face of angular cheekbones and dark, dangerous eyes. I catch James' eye and he reveals a tiny smile of satisfaction, he knows too. As we finish our circuit of the square, the cheering seems to intensify for unexplained reasons, as our carriage has come to a in front of the mansion. The crowd is getting louder and more excited by the minute. I can't stop myself from gasping in both shock, and unfortunate admiration as I find the source of the excitement. District 10. The two strong-looking, dark haired tributes were standing tall and proud in their bronze carriage. I once never thought it possible to make livestock a selling point in the Tributes Parade, considering the limitations they have with decent costumes, ones which actually maintain a sense of dignity. It's possible. I couldn't tell what they were actually dressed, because over the top was a long cape, made to look like the wings of a bird. The outside was covered with a generous layer of brown feathers that must have had some form of metal woven in between them because they seemed to catch all the light in the city square, all of our light. The inside of the cape was covered in feathers too, but in white. The tributes wore tall, bronze headpieces, designed to look like more tasteful versions of the comb of a chicken. They looked incredible, despite the fact that they were technically dressed up as chickens, but the Capitol evidently does not realize this judging by their now-deafening screams of praise. I look over to James, who appears to be even more annoyed than I am. As the reality of the situation hits me, all brief feelings of admiration are well and truly behind me. They haven't just stolen our petty, yet adoring Capitol fans, but our sponsors. It's unlikely that we'll need too much in the arena, but what if we do? Their money will be going straight to the district ten tributes, that is if they even survive the bloodbath at the Cornucopia on the very first day. I know what I have to do. We can't afford to lose sponsors to these pathetic outland districts this soon, when there's no knowing what the other tributes have in store. I have to kill them, as brutally as possible, just to prove that I'm not a lost cause.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter four: THE CAPITOL

Olivia, district 7

_Training_

"In a matter of weeks, only one of you will be alive…"

It probably wasn't wise to tune out during our introduction to training, but I needed to examine these twenty three teenagers who I must find some way to defeat in the arena. Judging by the looks of longing several of them direct to the various sinister-looking weapons, most of which would be too heavy for me even to consider attempting to use, placed all around the training centre, my chances seem relatively slim. Most of my fellow tributes however are trembling like leaves, thus instigating a cruel chuckle from the district 1 boy. A Career tribute. An overwhelmingly scary majority of teenagers from the more prestigious districts, 1, 2 and 4, are trained for the games since the age of ten. They then volunteer when they're eighteen, destined and surmised to win the games. No reaping. Winning the games will literally become their career because when they return home after the Games, all there is left to do is fritter away their fulfilled lives in the Victors Village, unless they wish to mentor the new tributes each year. This year's Careers however seem a bit younger than the expected eighteen years. The youngest looks about fifteen, the oldest seventeen at the most. One would assume they're exceptionally deadly then.

"There are three compulsory exercises you must complete, but besides that you can train how you wish…"

My eyes wander to a platform, a room of sorts somewhat disconnected from the training centre, but still providing an ample view of us tributes, where the Gamemakers all sit and watch us. Pondering through their conniving, artful brains to find the means to make this year's Games more memorable than the last.

Once dismissed by the Capitol training assistant, Nettle, the Career tributes make a bee-line for the weapons, while most of the other tributes hesitantly take their first lessons in knife throwing or in hand-to-hand combat. I meander to the knot-tying station, probably one of the only things I can handle in the training centre with confidence, it also puts me in a good position to observe my fellow tributes. The tall, slim girl with long blond hair from district 4 leans over to her equally tall district partner and they whisper in delight, pointing at the confused-looking girl from 12. I couldn't tell if they were laughing at the fact that she was covered head to toe in a thin layer of gold sparkles, or the fact that she was feebly attempting to swing a mace into a plastic mannequin, but failing terribly, in fact nearly bludgeoning her district partner and adjacent tributes. The comparatively short boy from 2 strides over to her and gives her an evidently false look of sympathy.

"Mind if I step in here?" He flashes her smile one could have described as sweet, if they didn't see the brutally mischievous flames dancing in his eyes, as well as his amused allies standing on the sidelines in anticipation of what he was going to do. Of course the girl bought into it and smiled as he gently took the weapon from her. For several seconds all I hear are the loud smashes of cracking plastic and thuds of the remains of five training mannequins falling to the ground. Everyone turns their heads to the source of the noise nervously to find its fomenter. I look up and the boy catches my eye, staring me down as I fumble with a piece of rope. I somehow find myself quickly making my way to the knife throwing station, perhaps hoping to learn something useful before the games begin, but probably just trying to not to appear so incompetent to the Careers. I refuse to be an easy target, as I have probably been defined as already, being the smallest tribute this year due to the strange lack of twelve year olds. Although the lessons could be beneficial, it's all I can do not to just stand here unproductively, observing my competition.

"Remember, not all of you will die in combat. Most of you will die from natural causes, as well as infection from any wounds you will undoubtedly receive in the arena. So brush up on those skills before you start throwing spears around" Nettle enters and leaves again, grabbing a spear off the blonde boy from district 6 as she goes. I look over to the Careers again. As to be expected, they remain at the weapons stations, uninterested in the prospect that they could die from anything but a fight, or die at all probably. I watch motionlessly as the smallest one (yet of course not the smallest of all the tributes, small for a Career), a deceivingly innocent looking girl with wide eyes heartlessly takes out six mannequins with a bow and arrow. Two to the head, four to the heart. One of them could be me next week. I barely notice I've been blatantly staring at the girl until I notice she's staring back at me. Her lips curl into a small, insidious half smile as she delicately places the bow back on its hook and crosses the room to rejoin her fellow Careers. I literally feel the room decrease in temperature as she maintains to hold her gaze when she returns.

I decide to take Nettle's advice and "brush up on those skills", i.e. the only skills I possess that could possibly benefit me in the arena, the only skills I'd be able to show the Gamemakers during my private session. My district partner appears to disagree though. I follow the various disturbing sounds of metal on plastic and the much worse clashes of metal on metal until I spot Tyler callously throwing axes at the far west wall of the centre. _Too afraid to face the Careers at the mannequins are you?_ The only other tribute at the survival skills station is the quiet boy from district 5, who I come to discover is called Thane. I watch silently as he almost magically conjures a flame from damp, green wood then proceeds to protect it as a training assistant showers the once-steady fire with artificial rain. It goes out temporarily, but he somehow coaxes it back to life out of the wet wood, making me gasp. His head quickly turns towards me.

"Not one for weapons?" I ask nervously, attempting to make some form of small talk. _But why? Would it be stupid to suggest forming an alliance with Thane? It certainly would be useful…_

"Why should they know what I can do?" He says, feeding some medium sized sticks to his fire.

"What?" I say, confused. "Why not?"

He looks at me with a certain lack of expression I find somewhat terrifying. _Would it be stupid?_

"Would you want them to know you could kill them all with their own weapons, probably minutes into the games?" He looks towards the Careers. I follow his gaze just in time to see the ginger district 2 girl chop a mannequin clean in half with a sword, the district 1 boy doing the same on her left, but to two mannequins with a swallow. It sends shivers down my spine.

"Or would you like it to remain a surprise for when the gong sounds?"


End file.
